


The Feeling of your Skin

by Banashee



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo ROUND 2 [3]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Amputation, Anger, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Blood and Injury, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Injury, Injury Recovery, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Missions Gone Wrong, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Clint Barton, Recovery, Sleepy Cuddles, Team as Family, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:01:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27607343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banashee/pseuds/Banashee
Summary: Tony finds himself trapped under a collapsed building, sliding in and out of consciousness. When he wakes up again, he's in the hospital and missing his entire right arm. He's dealing poorly with it, but thankfully, he's also got a good support system.That, and a developing crush.-Part 3/25 - Bad Things Happen Bingo Round 2Prompt: Phantom Pain
Relationships: Clint Barton/Tony Stark
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo ROUND 2 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981954
Kudos: 58
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	The Feeling of your Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Bad Things Happen Bingo - Round 2!  
> Originally, I had this aaaall planned out as a NaNoWriMo project, but I decited to scrap that. Instead, I'll just write little snippets for each prompt and safe the larger ideas for another time. I'll write them - one day...  
> *Looks at giant pile of unfinished ideads and projects*  
> *nervous laughter dissolving into desperate sobbing*  
> -
> 
> As always, I'm crossposting these stories on my Tumblr.  
> https://banashee.tumblr.com/
> 
> You can get your own Bingo Card over at  
> https://badthingshappenbingo.tumblr.com/
> 
> -
> 
> I hope you enjoy this round as well - please let me know.

****

**The Feeling of your Skin**

Tony keeps falling in and out of consciousness, trapped under tons and tons of stone, glass and metal. He can’t move, because something is crushing his right arm in his Iron Man suit. Besides that, he is wedged in between pieces of rubble and there is nothing he can do about it. 

The metal armor has definitely gotten a few bad hits, because Tony can’t communicate with anyone and JARVIS voice is too faint, crackling in the distance as if he is being cut off and fighting to get through.

Tony is feeling helpless, and he hates every second of it. He can deal with a lot - being unable in any way, shape or form to do something about the situation he’s stuck in isn’t one of those things.

The pain in his arm is throbbing and it feels like his entire arm is slowly getting ripped off of his shoulder. His insides feel like they are on fire, and bile is rising up his throat. 

Breathing is getting harder and harder at this point, but Tony forces himself to keep going, even as he’s terrified and gasping for air. 

The commlink in his ear is crackling, but no one manages to get through. A shame, really. He would have loved to hear another person's voice in his ear if he’s so fucking unlucky to die alone under a collapsed building. No such luck. 

When the pain gets too overwhelming once again, Tony can feel himself drifting away, choking on blood in his airways and hoping desperately for either help or for all of this to be over quickly...

How much time has passed, Tony doesn’t know. But the next time he wakes up, he does so in a white room that smells of antiseptic. Too many things beep and make all kinds of noises that feel like pins and needles in his already bursting head. All of those machines are hooked up to him, he realizes belatedly.

Tony tries to move, and a new wave of nauseating pain overwhelms him. 

He’s coughing, and it feels like his lungs are exploding - there is a tube stuck in his throat and nostrils, making all of the sensations feel like hell.

Out of instinct more than anything, he tries to scratch or pull at it, but the movement doesn’t seem to register with his arm. Tony attempts to move it again, but nothing happens, all he can feel is pain, seething pain. It’s like the order to move gets lost on the way from his brain to the nerves. Either that, or he is restrained - but he can’t feel anything specific. Nothing but pain and panic that is rising up in his chest. He doesn’t know how bad things are exactly. 

Tony forces himself to move his head and look over, see the damage - but there is nothing - literally. In the spot where his right arm should be, nothing but the bedsheets is by his side. All that Tony can see is gauze on his shoulder and then it stops. 

His arm isn’t there. 

The machines around him are going crazy, and Tony is faintly aware that he is starting to panic. 

Voices and footsteps turn into a muddled mess around him. Somebody takes his left hand gently into their own and starts talking next to his ear. The voice is calm, quiet and familiar. Tony knows that voice, knows that touch and it’s slightly rough calluses, but he is so out of it, it doesn’t fully register with him. 

Someone must have sedated him, because Tony can feel himself fading away into unconsciousness again. The grip on his hand remains though, and Tony clings back with whatever little strength he’s got left and leans into the touch when the person gently brushes away a strand of hair from his forehead. 

*+~

The doctors say that the pain he is experiencing is phantom pain, something that is quite common for people who have lost a part of their body. Tony listens without a word, nods along. He figured as much, but it helps to know that he isn’t imagining things, that he isn’t going crazy. That it is something to be expected, especially since he lost his arm in such a violent way. 

It still catches him off-guard, sometimes.

One day, Tony is fine and living his life, even though that means “with a metal device in his chest that keeps him alive”. But then there comes a day, when he finishes breakfast in a rush because the alarm sounds and the Avengers make their way into battle. 

A few hours later, Tony finds himself trapped under a collapsed building, thinking he won’t make it out of there alive, only to wake up again. When he does, he is hooked up to too many machines and his entire right arm is missing.

His right arm. The one arm he uses for everything - Tony is capable of doing many things with his left, no doubt, but it’s never been his dominant hand. Well - it is now, he thinks, trying not to be too bitter about it. It is no use.

One thing he never thought about, but he notices now, is that he misses being able to hug someone with both arms wrapped around them as tightly as humanly possible. 

He’s never been especially close to a lot of people - he’s got way too many trust- and touch-issues for that. But the Avengers are the big exception of that rule, right next to Rhodey, Pepper and Happy. 

These people are his family, and he wants them close. Tony is protective over all of them, but even more so, he is a casually touchy person. Just walking by, touching arms, brushing shoulders, rubbing backs and ruffling hair, wrapping an arm around another person's waist to just keep walking. All of that while he gestures around or holds a coffee cup with the other hand. 

It doesn’t help that especially lately, since-before-the-accident-lately, he’s found himself craving for more contact with one person in particular. He can’t stop thinking of the day he woke up in the hospital though, and the calm and familiar voice beside him, holding his hand until he was under again. 

Although he is pretty sure, they don’t talk about it. But Tony knows those hands - and he damn well knows what Clint feels like. 

Maybe, just maybe they can get this sorted out. Later - but hopefully soon. 

Tony finds himself having to relearn everything from writing, building, interacting with human beings. It stresses him more than he wants to let on, and he doesn’t have the energy to focus on anything else.

While Tony is in medical after the mission, there is almost always one of his friends around. 

At least one or two people from the team stay with him throughout day and night, and it is a relief - being alone down there, thinking he was about to die alone was horrifying. It’s almost as bad to relive it in his sleep. 

Waking up terrified and shaking from nightmares is bad - but waking up to the warm presence of another human being helps. 

Tony kind of expected the dreams, because being trapped under a collapsed building and feeling how a limb ends up getting severed would leave most people with vivid night terrors about it. And then there is the pain - seething, everlasting pain, shooting through his nervous system and painting the illusion of an arm that is no longer there. 

The others stay with him, even when he grows more and more tired and frustrated. They give him space, then, leaving the room for a bit, but never going far. Tony knows they’ll be back after a little while or as soon as he asks. 

He catches himself snapping at the people around him more and more. Guilt eats him up almost immediately after, but the anger and frustration need to go somewhere. Unfortunately, it ends up where it really shouldn’t - directed at the people he loves and who support him most.

He always apologizes after, and they accept it every time, but he can’t help but think how long things can go on like this. Something needs to change. 

Maybe this is why, when Tony is back home, he starts drinking again.

So some days, he just hides in his workshop and drinks until he is unable to get up from wherever he crashed. He’ll pass out and wake up in bed later, with a glass of water and painkillers by his side. Tony gets away with that 2 or 3 times, then he finds that there is always someone to keep him company, if only to stop him from drinking the entire bottle on his own. 

Part of him wants to snap and snarl until they leave, but he doesn’t - not always. 

Not anymore. They deserve better than that. 

None of them _needs_ to be here - they could walk away any time and yet they stick around. Sometimes, he doesn’t know why they even still bother. 

Tony hopes they know how much he appreciates that, despite his troubles to say as much. 

Luckily though, they’ve known each other for years at this point. They know - or at least, he hopes they do.

 _‘I’ll have to do better.’_ he thinks, and falls back into a restless sleep. 

One day at breakfast, he has had a bad night and ends up snapping at Steve, who is only trying to help him reach something. 

“Leave it! Just don’t. I don’t need help!” he snarls, and feels like his head is about to explode. His hand is throbbing, but it’s not even there anymore. The pain very much is. 

It’s a lie, too. 

Tony _does_ need help, for some things. At least for now, while he is still healing and he is painfully aware of it. But he is sick of people assuming, especially when he is already about to do something himself. It irritates him to no end.

“I’m sorry.” Steve says quietly and gives him space - a small part of Tony is satisfied, but mostly, he just feels like a dick. He knows Steve meant well - all of them do. But he is too ashamed to say anything. Breakfast is really quiet after that, and one by one, people leave the kitchen when they’re done, giving him space to cool off. 

Tony sighs, drinks the rest of his coffee and thumps his head onto the kitchen table a few times.

“Damn it.” He curses some more, thinking he’s alone in the kitchen and almost jumps out of his skin when a voice next to him says,

“You know, I get that it’s frustrating when people assume what you need. How about instead, you tell us what kind of help really is necessary?”

“Jesus, Fuck! Barton! I swear, I’ll make you wear a goddamn bell one of these days!”

“I dare you to try it.” There is a smirk in his voice, but then he shrugs at Tony. “My point still stands though.” 

Clint leans back in his chair and produces another pot of coffee seemingly out of thin air. He fills up his own mug and places the pot on the table so that Tony can easily reach it himself. 

He recognizes it as both the peace offering and hint that it is - he’ll happily take it and huffs a small laugh at ‘I dare you to try it.’

“Thanks.” Tony pours himself a cup and drinks about half of it in silence, thinking about what Clint told him. 

It’s not surprising that this kind of advice came from Clint - Tony knows that he’s speaking from experience. Not only from losing most of his hearing a few years back, but also countless injuries caused by missions gone sideways. Recovering from those must have been hell - he knows those files.

It’s not hard at all to imagine Clint snapping and lashing out at people who crowded him in recovery, even when the help was well intended. Much like him, now. 

Tony knows that Clint understands, at least to some degree. 

“Different situations, same outcome, huh.” he says out loud, without really meaning to. A hum drowned out in a coffee cup is the answer he gets, followed by

“Something like that. So, yeah, the situation sucks and you’ll have to find a way to deal with it. And you can. We’re all here and no one thinks any less of you. Just… Maybe instead of drinking the housebar dry, let any of us know what we can do to actually help you, huh?”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” Tony grouches, even though he knows that Clint is right.

“Duh. Why do you think I’m the one talking to you right now? You’re just as much of a stubborn ass. But we care a lot about you. _I_ care a lot about you” Clint adds and looks him directly into the eyes. The steady stare that he fixes him with should be uncomfortable, but it’s not. It’s familiar, and quite a bit softer and more understanding than most days.

Tony appreciates that a lot. He nods and delays his answer by drinking more coffee. 

Trying to deflate the seriousness of the situation, he’s aiming for a joke.

“And here I thought we only keep you around for your good looks.”

Clint bursts out laughing - he clearly didn’t expect that answer.

“I know I should be offended, but I’m really not.” He’s still grinning, and Tony can’t help but laugh himself. It’s been a while since he did that, he realizes.

“Good.” Tony says and just goes for the side hug so he can hide his face and the look of relief on it. Besides, he really needs this. The arms that wrap around him are warm and comfortable, holding on tightly enough to be reassuring, but still lose enough for him to pull away anytime - not that he wants to. Lucky for him, Clint doesn’t let go first - he just waits until Tony does so a while later. 

Quite a while, but it doesn’t matter - no one else is there to watch the private moment, after all. 

*+~

“Hey. Clint. Hey. Wake up.” 

Tony prepares for flying hands and carefully keeps his distance when he pokes at Clint’s cheek one night. Talking to him is useless, since the purple BTE’s are clearly visible on the bedside table, but it doesn’t feel right to just creep up and poke someone quietly. Tony is well aware that his approach system could use some work, but whatever. 

Thankfully, all he gets in response is a pitiful groan and 

“What the fuuuck....” 

Clint peels out of the blankets, blindly reaches around for the light and curses once more when the small lamp illuminates the room and blinds him for a moment. His hair is sticking up in every direction and there are pillow lines on his face when he owlishly blinks at the man sitting on the end of his bed.

“Tony? Are you okay?” he asks, rubbing one hand over his face in confusion and worry. Then he yawns hard enough to make his jaw crack.

Tony nods, then points at his ears and Clint gets the hint, reaching for the hearing aids on the table. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, and to his utter surprise, Tony is smiling at him. 

He’s been doing that more and more lately, which is a good thing. But not a reason to raise him out of a deep sleep at fuck o clock in the morning. 

“I’ve finished it.” Tony says, and there is a shine in his eyes - he is clearly excited about something. 

“Finished -” Clint repeats, and then his sleepy brain catches up. “Oh. _Oh!_ Your prosthetic?” he asks then, much more awake and excited now. 

This one has been a long time coming - as soon as Tony had been out of medical and sober enough, he’d started developing plans for his future right arm. Even more so once he stopped drinking again.

There is a lot of new and delicate technology involved, most of it an experiment. Working on it has taken a lot of time, and Clint is both happy for him and ridiculously giddy that Tony chose him out of all people to share this with, even though he poked him awake at an ungodly hour.

But this is exciting. If all goes well and the arm doesn’t cause him any major problems in the long run, Tony is planning to make the technology available for anyone who needs it. 

“Yes! I just got it done and I’m ready to try it on but… Uhm. I didn’t want to do that alone.” 

Aw, feelings, no. He can definitely feel his heartbeat speed up.

“Did you bring it here, or…?” 

Instead of an answer, Tony pulls a robotic looking arm onto his lap. It looks a lot like one of his suits, but the materials seem to be different. It’s beautiful and obviously high-tech, but the best thing is that Tony looks at it with so much pride.

“It’s very much you.” Clint says, and waits for Tony to launch into a ramble about the technical details, but he doesn’t. Tony just smiles. 

Clint watches, as the arm lights up and positions itself so that Tony can easily put it on without assistance. Then it attaches itself around the stump on his shoulder, where he already put on a black glove. The whole process doesn’t take long at all, but it is fascinating - this arm seems to have a life of its own.

Tony moves it around a bit, twisting and turning. The fingers move effortlessly, and he looks more than happy about it. When he looks up at Clint again, he can’t help 

but smile back. 

“Wow.” he says, not sure what else would be appropriate.

“Pretty good, huh?” There is a beat of silence before Tony continues,

“There are touch sensors - they’re supposed to work like nerves, is the short version anyway.”

He stretches the arm out, as if offering a hand to hold. Clint is pretty sure where this is going, but he still wants to ask permission - if only to keep his beating heart at least somewhat at bay.

“Can I-?” 

“Go for it. How does it feel?”

“It’s - warm. Soft. Holy shit! What do _you_ feel?”

“You.” 

For once in his life, Clint is at a loss for words. Tony just smiles at him with shining eyes. Then he gets a hold of Clint’s other hand with his own left and lets the new hand of his right brush over the skin on his arms, over the side of his head, lightly scratching his scalp and brushing through tangled strands of blond hair.

“Feels just right. There is hardly any difference between the two hands - that’s - wow.”

Somehow, this entire moment is way more intimate than if they were sleeping with each other. 

Neither of them talks much and they simply stay close. 

At some point, they end up laying down in bed, legs tangled and still touching. Holding hands, fingers running over skin and beard stubble, brushing through hair. This is probably the most relaxed either of them has been in a long time, and it shows. They’re close enough to share little bits of breath every now and then, close enough to inhale each other's scent. 

Tony is faintly aware that there is a loopy smile on his face. He is happy to be here, to be able to use two arms again - happy that Clint is sharing this moment with him, and even more so that he seems to be just as happy to just hold him close.

He’s wanted this for so long - then stuff happened, and he’d focused on other things. But he’s better now, happier. 

The phantom pain is still there, knocking the wind out of him whenever it comes. But it’s been less and less as time went on. Part of him hopes that it’ll fade away more over time, but there is no telling yet. 

For now, Tony is happy. He is also about to fall asleep.

“Do you need to take this off for the night?” Clint asks him soon after that particular train of thought, rubbing small circles on the upper arm of the prosthetic. He sounds sleepy as well, but in the best way possible.

Tony shakes his head. “No, this should be okay. Might as well test that now… Do you mind if I stay?” he asks then, making himself comfortable on the other man’s chest.

“I’d be very upset if you leave now.” 

Clint is very blunt and honest about this - he blames it on the fact that a certain someone has woken him up from a deep sleep, but since that Someone is currently snuggled up in bed with him, he’s certainly not about to complain. 

Tony laughs quietly, and tightens his hold for a moment. 

“We should talk more often when we’re half asleep. Would have saved a whole lot of time before.”

“Agreed. Let me just take my ears out.” 

Regretfully, Clint pulls away with one arm to remove the hearing aids. As nice as hushed conversations late at night, like this one, are - falling asleep with the aids in isn’t worth the gross feeling the next day - or the rapidly draining batteries. 

Once he’s done, the two of them rearrange them a bit until they’re comfortable again. If he imagines the feeling of lips pressing a kiss into his hair, he isn’t sure, but he falls asleep happy, warm and content.

Tony doesn’t take long to fall asleep, either. He can’t stop smiling, because his world looks quite a bit brighter now - quite a bit warmer and happier in general.

That night, he sleeps without a nightmare, which is rare for him. But sleeping peacefully is easier if you know that someone else is right there. 

*+~

Square 3/25: Phantom Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:
> 
> \- graphic injury, blood  
> \- near death experience  
> \- talking /thinking about death (not suicidal though)  
> \- amputation of an arm  
> \- alcohol, implied alcoholism  
> \- poor coping  
> \- misdirected anger


End file.
